


The Proper Use of a Lady's Spike

by sparklight



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 10:32:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklight/pseuds/sparklight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Optimus has a request... A kinkmeme fill, and it's been slightly elaborated on from the original on the meme. Otherwise known as "Optimus interfaces with Elita, and doesn't use his spike."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Testing the Waters

"Well?" She murmured it right against a seam in his back, lips vibrating slightly against each half of the armour plating. He leaned back slightly, feeling her form press back against him and she was short enough she logically shouldn't have him trapped. But maybe it was something in her tone, or in the curling static of her field as it flared out from her armour and curled about him... Or maybe it was that her arms had slid around his waist, her hands framing his covered interface, thumbs resting above the spike housing, her fingers... her fingers.

Well.

"... Elita, I..." It shouldn't be so hard, but merely the thought of her hovering above him and _not_ perched on his pelvic armour to use that angle and ride him was enough to curl heat along his circuits as well as embarrassment. The static charge her fingers rubbing against the cover of his valve was stirring just underneath that cover was just as embarrassing. Not because she wasn't _capable_ of it, and _good_ at it, but rather... because she was those very things, and he _shouldn't_ want it. If he'd been a femme that would have been one thing, but _this_...

"Would you _want_ to do it?" Another vibrating hum against his back, her hands tightening against the metal and a finger pressed down exactly over the center of the cover to his valve. At the same time, her hips pushed up into his with a little wiggle that implied something else entirely from how things usually went, and Optimus' helm tilted back even as his hips twitched slightly _into_ those warm, firm hands.

"Yes." He might be embarrassed about it, but that didn't mean he didn't want her, in all the ways that could be conceived. Even if the current way that had charge curling down his circuits wasn't... exactly... what he was _supposed_ to want. Or what Elita was supposed to want either, for that matter, but if there was one thing she never wasted effort and time worrying over, it was such things as "shoulds" and "should nots" when it came to pleasure.

"That's all that matters, then. Door is closed, there's only the two of us in here..." Her voice dropped and gained a second, underlying tone from the first, humming in the sub-sonic range as she gently urged him forward. He briefly lifted an arm to curl his hand about her elbow where it stuck out to the side, thumb rubbing against the joint. She pressed up more fully against him, angled to lean her cheek against his back, the upper curve of her chestplates below that, then her thighs, knees and lower legs along his. For a moment, Optimus didn't move, merely stood like that, feeling the friction and static collect under his thumb and Elita squirm minutely behind him. She'd always had a thing for her joints being stroked or even squeezed firmly enough the workings ground together.

" _Move_ , Optimus." And with _that_ , as his field flickered and sort of twisted around the axis his frame made at the words, at the _tone_ , how could he not? Turning around, he wasn't sure whether to be relieved her hand was no longer stroking lazily around the cover to his valve, or _disappointed_... But he didn't need to be, did he? Not the way things were going, even if he still couldn't believe he'd actually _said_ anything.

They walked slowly across the floor, their hands intertwined and one of Elita's pinky fingers rubbing along the joints and seams of the fingers she could reach. Optimus walked backwards, not so much leading Elita as being pushed along, the motion familiar. While he sat down on the berth easily, sliding back to allow Elita to sit crouched between his thighs, seeing her there... Her hovering above him, exactly like he'd imagined earlier, had him curl a hand around one of her elbows again, swallowing not just the joint, but part of the arm as well, blue contrasting against pink.

"I know I _shouldn't_ , but seeing you in the washracks earlier, it just---" He broke off as she used her free hand to lay a finger against his lips, and suddenly he almost regretted baring his face to her, like he always did once they were alone. "I've always _wondered_ ," Optimus murmured against that finger, catching the tip of it between his lips and mouthing along it. Elita's smile was bright, maybe slightly teasing, but certainly not even a distant shade of _mocking_.

"So let's see if you will _like it_ besides a desire for wanting to do it. Wouldn't do to let you wonder, I don't think." She leaned forward, her hand trailing sideways along his cheek as his lips released her finger to curl about the side of his helm briefly. Then that clever hand, knowing exactly which cable in against his throat to pinch and to stroke the side of his neck trailed downwards while the front of their helms met. Stroking along the seams in her side, following the intricate panelling of her abdomen and down the generous curve of her hip, his questing fingers, for once, didn't dip between her legs but stopped slightly above, circling the faint indentation that revealed the panel to her spike. Not that he hadn't touched that part of her 'facing equipment before, he wasn't _inconsiderate_ , but never with the intent of doing it _this way_.

While her fingers caressed along the seams in his thigh, her fingertips digging down in the grooves and stroking fire and friction in their wake, her spike cover slid away under Optimus' questioning fingers and allowed the long, slender rod to slide out. The beginnings of a charge crackled underneath his fingers as he followed the length of it, the tiny, delicate workings set in clusters and whorls sliding back under the pressure of his touch, and then snapping back up as he passed. Rubbing the tip with his palm, their smiles nearly touched as Elita arched her hips into the touch, her gasp soundless.

Then she drew back slightly, sitting up straight as her smile took on a decided... edge and caught the hand at her spike. Twining their hands together while her other scraped along the edges of his pelvic armour, dipping down into the gap between thigh and pelvis to teasingly push down against the joint hidden within. Optimus twitched at the sensation, startled by his own wavering laugh at the touch that sparked both charge to curl down along circuits that led deeper, as well as a distinctly _tickling_ feeling. Leaning forward to brush their lips together and kiss away the smile on Elita's face, he wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve her.

That thought was interrupted as she withdrew her hand from the gap and stroked along the thigh-ward angles of his pelvic armour, then up against the planes of his actual pelvis. His hips twitched into the touch even as she avoided the center at first, following the seams along the sides. Then slowly down over the front, following the details set there before a finger twirled, maddeningly light, around the cover of his spike and then _down_ between his legs.

"Open up, Optimus."

She'd said it many times before, in that tone of voice, even hovering above him, her frame cast in sharp relief from the lightning, but not... Not with this intention, and he couldn't quite stifle the groan as his hips tilted into her touch and the cover of his valve spiralled open. The barest brush of her knuckles against the rim sparked flickers of blue charge to strike up, snapping between them. Their engines revved in counterpoint of each other, Optimus' larger one producing a dull roar even in a room marked by people living there, spaces crowded by _things_ , and Elita's thrumming slightly higher, but with a substance and power of its own. The sounds threaded together, smacked against their plating and went beneath, vibrating against cables, circuits and the protoform hidden underneath it all.

Elita caught his optics with her own as she stroked a finger along the rim of his valve in a full circle, then dipped inside, filaments and workings sliding away from her touch and unable to grip onto the smooth metal of her finger. It wasn't enough. Optimus curled one hand on the berth, his other still twined with Elita's and felt hot, crippling embarrassment flare up. He shouldn't want this so much. He should want her open for him, as she _always_ was, and _she_ shouldn't want to be where she was, about to do what he'd asked and had he even _asked her_ if she wanted to do this? Suddenly he couldn't remember. He didn't think she'd think him _strange_ , but...

"Optimus. Look at me."

His optics flickering, Optimus looked up from where he'd been looking down his own frame where Elita's hand was obscured by his crotch, but her spike still clearly visible between them, it's slender length as perfectly a reflection of her as the rest of her frame. 

"I would have said no if I didn't _want to_ , you silly mech." With that, her finger slid out and his whole valve twitched emptily from rim to bottom, a flickering wave of physical movement as well as _want_ he was _not_ used to. He barely kept from keeping his engine merely idling at the feeling, surprised mostly because even earlier exploration by himself and with other mechs hadn't quite resulted in _that_. Elita's knowing smile as she raised their joined hands to kiss the back of his said he hadn't been quite successful, however. Scraping her teeth over one of his fingers, she shifted around, sliding her right hand down his leg with a movement he well-recognised and being on _this end_ of it snapped hot, flickering charge down his circuits. Her hand closed around the back of his knee and she angled his thigh up against her side and his knee above her shoulder.

"Elita..."

She smirked against his hand, the head of her spike now brushing the rim of his valve, and even that intermittent friction was enough to catch errant charge, locking between the matching pieces to send charge down her spike and up along the workings of his valve. Optimus' optics twitched and he felt his hips strain downwards, if that even was possible. She outright _laughed_ , but no resentment flowed up at that warmly amused sound. Especially the way her optics, darkened to a cobalt blue, glittered in the light reflected from the inner workings behind the glass.

"Ready, brightspark?"

He opened his mouth, vocaliser cycling up, and then she slid right in. Optimus froze as compared to her finger, now all those filaments had somewhere to _cling to_. Everything shifted into and away from Elita's spike as she seated herself in one smooth move, charge dancing with that single movement. Elita's hand slid out of Optimus' now slack grip, stroking up along his arm and gripped his shoulder as she drew back half-way. Her optics brightened slightly but the glow concentrated to the middle of her optics as she followed Optimus' expression as she moved, slowly for that first stroke. Her spike was decidedly different from a mech's, the fit of her in his valve like nothing he'd felt before, which was _why_ she wasn't “supposed” to be the one to spike him. 

But that very difference, the slender, finely-tooled rod with its workings and nodes set in a completely different way from what he was used to...

His valve flickered with no conscious control behind it around her spike, the filaments matched to her girth and locking there intuitively to catch the most of the charge. She went back in, slowly, and Optimus' helm fell back, his teeth gritted. Leaning forward, Elita nibbled along the upper edge of his chestplates, fitting her mouth around the little lights and tonguing them as she slid back out again and rolled her hips with only the head of her spike still inside. Optimus thrust back this time, seating her halfway with his own movement, and Elita hummed around the light she was mouthing, then scraped her teeth over the armour glass covering it as she _snapped_ her hips back in. Her engine covered her thready moan at the feel of Optimus' valve _scraping_ along her spike, charge bouncing between them and slamming deep into her spike then snapping upwards along circuits embedded within her protoform, curling around her spark chamber.

He trembled beneath her, and she caught a glance of wide, overly-bright optics.

"There's no _shame_ in liking this, Optimus. Whatever things are said about what I _should_ want, what you _should_ do, or want or _need_... The important thing is that we _enjoy it_." Timing the rhythm of her words to her increasing thrusts, Optimus suddenly crushed her to himself, his leg sliding off her shoulder to curl about her hip instead. She wound her arms around his neck and bit his chinguard, fingers scraping along the flexible, slatted metal of his neck and stroking the cables. Optimus squeezed her arms and his hands didn't seem to be able to decide whether to fan out against her back, stroking hot static along the planes, or attempt to clutch at the seams.

He groaned as she snapped inside fully and sort of _bounced_ , wriggling her spike in the grip of his valve, then rolled her hips in a wide, indulgent movement that had both their engines revving. She was by now driven by the need to feel the charge curl about her spike, jump to the twitching filaments and nodes of Optimus' valve as they clutched at her spike and rushed down his valve, then disappearing to swamp their circuits. Also driven by the need of feeling Optimus move against her, his hands caressing her back in restless, needy strokes that raised static electricity while the energy fanned out through their frames.

The circuits around her spark chamber felt like they were _burning_ , and Optimus was trembling beneath and around her as they found their rhythm and suddenly moved _together_. Charge like white-hot plasma flickered along her spike as she withdrew, went in slowly enough Optimus _yelled_ at her, slid back out again, paused...

" _Elita_!" 

And snapped back in, Optimus' valve clenching about her and locking her in place as a full connection, like lightning from the tip of her spike where it was locked against the back of his valve to her spark chamber snapped into being, the charge rising and slamming over them. Optimus' engine skipped a rev, his optics flared and Elita simply held on as he convulsed about her.

When things cleared, their fans working loud in the silence and the grip on her spike merely comfortable, the charge spent and what was left being a familiar, static-less caress that she'd not felt in vorns from _this_ side, Elita tilted her helm to look up into Optimus' unfocused face.

"I... you..." he stuttered slightly, optics that too-bright whitish-blue again, and she dropped a kiss on his cheek, then on the tip of his nasal ridge, and then rubbed their crests together, saying nothing. "You're a gift from Primus, sweetspark. Could I... ah... convince you to do it again sometime?" His vocaliser skipped an astrosecond, then filled with static before he could continue, but he was looking her full in the optics as he asked.

Elita smiled and kissed him.


	2. How to Interface when the Doctor Ordered Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, Optimus spike just doesn't make an entrance here. Though this time, neither does Elita's. Not for lack of trying, though. Also, bondage.

Ratchet had said that with the injuries, Optimus shouldn't exert himself and he'd then looked from Optimus, to Elita and then back to Optimus, the frown deepening. They'd agreed, of course, nodded and made the appropriate agreeing noises, and Elita had helped Optimus to lay down on the berth back in their quarters. Their hands had intertwined, then, with Elita half sitting on the berth beside and above Optimus, one leg curled beneath her, the other on the floor. The kiss was slow, meandering, Elita trailing her lips along his jaw on each side, scraping her teeth over his chin-guard, and then their lips had moulded together.

It wasn't until he pulled one hand away and trailed it down her side, curling it about her hip to brush against the edges of her aft and he *winced* that Elita withdrew, tapping his windshield admonishingly.

“I think Ratchet said you shouldn't _exert_ yourself, right? And if you can't keep your hands to yourself...” She trailed off at his wounded look, his optics wide and bright.

“But Elita...”

She laughed and pulled the hand her fingers were still laced with his up above his helm, her other hand pulling a pair of stasis cuffs from her subspace and while Optimus paused, the actuators and cables in the hand she held tightening and freezing, he let her complete the motion. The cuff snapped about his wrist, and since it was still not active, it was merely with his cooperation that Elita could hold his hand pinned against the wall... 

Though, given, if he'd attempted to move it, she knew exactly where to pinch, squeeze and yank to paralyse and cramp up the inner workings of his arm for long enough to fight for that other arm, especially now that he was injured enough pulling too far brought a wince or two.

“I didn't say we should _stop_ , did I? But if you insist on _moving_...” She grinned down at Optimus as the other half of the cuffs closed about his wrist, and they were then attached to the wall. His legs, however, was an other issue entirely, and Optimus couldn't quite keep from squirming at her bright, narrow stare, the smirk about her lips absolutely wicked.

“I do have _some_ self-control, you know.” Indignation, but not nearly as severe as the tone implied and Elita's smile just deepened as she left the berth. It took a bit of work, and it left Optimus staring, sort of flabbergasted and surprised at her ingenuity while she pulled out energon rope from its storage and attached it to the ceiling.

“... Elita.” He stared up at her and the sharp little gleam in her blue optics, expectant charge trickling down his circuits and while he could admit to some apprehension, it wasn't enough to put up whatever fight he _could_ as she reached for a leg and wound the glowing rope about his ankle. The warmth of the live rope melted into the joint and deeper, the faint rubbing from the rope as she twitched and pulled at it let friction trickle down into his sensor net and spreading outwards in squirming rays. Then she hauled his leg up, leaving it suspended in the air, and definitely a lot harder to move than if it had been left on the berth. The second leg was joined by the first and he wasn't sure if he'd ever been quite this... exposed before, even before her.

“Yes?” The belated response was murmured against his foot, her lips brushing against the metal in what ought to be near-imperceptible pressure, but the slow, gentle movements had keyed everything to her and raised the sensitivity of all sensor nodes. Optimus tightened his hands and tried to shift his position. What happened was mostly that his hips squirmed against the surface of the berth while his legs swung only slightly.

“I... You're right. We shouldn't... ah, upset Ratchet.” His optics were a bit bright, because while they'd used the cuffs a few times before on either of them, there hadn't really been a lot more... ah, creativity beyond that and this...

Her right hand landed on his thigh, while her left slid along his leg to end up framing the panel for his interface, palm full against the metal and firmly enough to scrape, the vibration going circuit-deep.

“I thought so as well.” Her smile was molten metal as she bent down, the non-existent pressure of her EM field pushing against his inner thighs as she licked along that panel and it shouldn't... really shouldn't, be all that it took, but it snapped open with frightening speed and ease. He huffed, looking away, feeling somewhat embarrassed, especially as he wasn't even sure if he had the energy to let his spike be charged enough to be of _use_ \---

The surprised groan was ripped out of his vocaliser and his helm snapped back at the feel of her tongue probing first along the rim of his valve, and then dipping inside, feeling out the delicate caliphers and internal workings that reached out and slid away from the intruder. She hummed, and Optimus _shook_ beneath her, around her, and Elita let her hands slide around to the outside of his thighs, rhythmically squeezing and her fingers scraping along seams.

“I---”

“Shhh.” The fact that she murmured that with her tongue still inside of him made Optimus twist, helplessly, but not able to do it nearly enough to upset his injuries, weight taken off, his legs up in the air. Instead it mostly ground his hips back into the berth, his valve up against Elita's lips and tongue as they mouthed around the rim of his valve, her fingers now playing around the edges of the gaps to his hip joints.

He'd have protested, he really would, but she stabbed her tongue in, the lithe, flexible metal faintly charged, enough to react with the grasping workings of his valve to snap charge down along it to the bottom and then up and deeper, curling around his spark chamber.

“You should---” Optimus gasped, the words lost to static. He didn't want her to be _without_ and while they hadn't done it that way more than once, she should... He groaned as she hummed again and charge lashed down along his valve as Elita felt along the side, tongue probing against the caliphers.

“Another time.” Two words, her lips and tongue, that was all it took. But those two words were murmured against his valve, in two different pitches, the sub-sonic range vibrating deep enough to create lightning charge on its own, and the one set higher than her voice, than most other things, slid above with a nearly frantic vibration that had Optimus attempting to twist around liquid lightning and white charge and he couldn't _get_ anywhere---

When Elita next kissed him, they were twined together, still mindful of his injuries, the ropes still dangling from the ceiling.


End file.
